Bedside Stories
by sarapals with past50
Summary: Sara is recovering from her abduction. Grissom stays with her, but there are other visitors. Fluff, smiles.
1. Chapter 1

_Bedside Stories Chapter 1_

_A/N: We own nothing, not CSI, not these characters. Just providing a little bit of fluff and fun for our favorite CSIs. _

It was his hands that told her he was with her. She felt his hand covering her own amid everything else that was going on. Her brain had long ago shut down any cognizant thoughts. The heat, the sun, the dust, the sand was never-ending. Then it was gone. Darkness had overtaken her until she knew his hand was touching hers. The air was cooler now, forced into her lungs. His hand was on hers.

He said her name "Sara." Another voice repeated it. She heard her age given.

She managed to open her eyes. Sandpaper grated against her lids. Intense pain covered her body, more than she had ever known before. Noise, so much noise after hours of hearing nothing but wind made her head hurt. His hand was on hers.

Her eyes tried to focus. She knew he was with her. Her eyes found white letters and she tried to smile through parched lips. He found her. He held her hand. She closed her eyes.

She heard his voice saying she had no allergies, she was not pregnant, he was her power of attorney and health surrogate, he could sign papers. Each time her eyes opened, he was there, holding her hand.

She coughed as she tried to wake up. Her eyes opened to cool white. Her arms would not move. His hand was on hers.

"Hey," his voice. The whiteness left her eyes as he lifted a white cloth away.

"Hey," her own voice croaked a raspy word. Her eyes met his. She struggled against pain and restraints on her shoulder and both arms.

His hand was on her face. "Your arm is fractured, in a temporary splint. An IV is in your other arm." She heard ice rattle in a cup. "Open you mouth."

Her lips felt like airport tarmac in July. She remembered the dusty, dry sand and, before that, the gritty water. She had been under a car and walked in the desert. She blinked her eyes trying to clear up the blurry image of his face; it was sunburned, his eyes bloodshot.

He spooned ice chips into her mouth, so cold her lip trembled. She tried not to shiver, but she must have because he pulled a blanket to her chin.

She wanted to say something, how lost she had been, how desperately she ran for life, how the thought of him gave her the drive to live. All she got out was his name. "Gil."

His voice was near her ear. "You're fine. You will be fine. Just rest. I'm not leaving. I'll be here." She knew his hand was wrapped around her fingers.

Her eyes closed and she slipped into a medicated sleep of dreams soon forgotten. He never left the room, moving from bedside chair to a small sofa in the corner and back again, afraid she would wake and find no one beside her.

The nurse woke her, cool fingers on her wrist. He was asleep, one arm kinked behind his head, the other across her chest, his hand on her chin. The nurse smiled and made no noise as she left the room.

Sheets crinkling as she shifted her feet was enough to open his eyes. His hand moved her hair away from her face. He brought a cup with a straw to her lips.

"Apple juice. Try just a sip."

She nodded and swallowed. "Thanks." It hurt to talk.

She watched him smile and saw the worry in his eyes. She tried to pull her hand up to touch his face but neither hand would follow her wish.

"The IV is still in. This arm is hooked up to some kind of monitor board. You have a splint on your other arm." He spoke in a quiet soft whisper. He held up two fingers. "You've been here nearly two days. You're going to be fine."

She struggled to lift her head. He brought the straw back to her lips. The wetness helped her dry mouth.

He put the cup on the table and brought something back in his hand. "They gave me this for your lips," he said as he used his finger to spread some substance on her mouth. She tried to smile which caused him to smile. Her face felt like it was covered with a stiff mask.


	2. Chapter 2

Bedside Stories Chapter 2

**Bedside Stories Chapter 2**

"You found me", her throat hurt, her voice barely a sound.

"Nick found you. You almost made it to the highway."

"I saw you."

"Yeah." He reached for the juice again. It was difficult for him to talk. For two days, no, for three days, his mind had spun in never ending circles while his body had run on auto-pilot. Find her find her find her. What ever it took let her be alive. He called upon God and every emissary to God to find her alive.

She was strong. Stronger than any of them, walking away from the car, in a drugged, pain-filled state, thinking to take the mirror. Building little totems of rocks remembering that wind blew footprints away. She was strong.

"Sleep, honey. You need rest. I'll be here." She slept.

Hours passed. She stirred again, trying to move only to struggle. "Can I sit up?"

He was beside her at once. "Let me call a nurse." He pressed a button. Somewhere the signal was given and quickly two people showed up. A tall young man and an older nurse moved as one, the nurse doing the talking.

"You finally decided to wake up, Sleeping Beauty." She moved the IV pole and held Sara's arm in a practiced manner. "We do have you tied to this bed with enough accessories to make sitting up difficult." She found controls and raised the head of the bed. "We don't want you out of bed, on your own just yet, but we can let you sit on the side of the bed."

Sara nodded her head, "Okay."

"Todd is going to help with the splint. Relax and let us do this. I'll hold your IV arm." She turned to Grissom. "And if you help her with her legs, arm underneath knees." The nurse pulled the covers back. "Watch her catheter."

The young man's arm slipped behind Sara's back and gently moved her up at the same time Grissom moved her legs. She pivoted or turned and she was sitting up. Everyone smiled at her as if she had accomplished some miracle. It made her dizzy and the room swayed in wavy motion for a few seconds.

Grissom had the straw back to her lips.

"We'll be back in ten minutes. Don't want to put too much on you to quickly." The nurse was at the door. "The more you drink, the quicker we can take some of this away." She and the boy were gone as quickly as they arrived.

Grissom remained at her side. When she looked at him, she saw a tentative smile on his lips, but not in his eyes.

"I must look bad." She had seen her bruised and scraped knees and legs.

His hand moved to her face. "You look good, honey."

She tried to bring her hand up again. Tubing of various colors snaked from her hand and arm to machines and monitors at the head of the bed; her arm held in place with Velcro straps. Her other arm was encased in a blue and white balloon from shoulder to fingertips.

"What has happened to me?" Her face hurt as much as her shoulder and arm; her legs were stiff, cuts and bruises showing below the hospital gown. Sitting up let her move her legs, but from her waist to her shoulders she had limited movement. She looked at Grissom for an answer. Her first thought was how sunburned his face was. Her second thought was how he needed sleep.

"You've been in the sun," she said.

When she said the words, he could no longer stop his arms as he wrapped them gently around her, carefully pulling her to him, his hands finding her face, kissing her hair. She did not know how battered and bruised she was; he did, almost afraid to touch her until she voiced concern about his sunburned face.

"Sara, Sweet Sara. You will be fine. Everything will heal. You've had…" He did not know how to describe the past 36 hours.

"A bad day," she murmured.

He felt her feet circle his leg. "Yeah, honey, you've had a couple of bad days."

The machine beeped an alarm. She pulled away as he reluctantly released his hold on her.

The alarm brought the nurse back in followed by the young man. She clipped another bag of fluids to the pole as she talked. "You need to keep this going for another few hours. Keep fluids going in by mouth." The three worked the same maneuver and had her back in bed, sheets smoothed, head raised, and her immobilized arms adjusted.

The nurse checked another monitor behind Sara's head. "I think we can take these off." Wires to her chest were pulled away. "One less thing to tie you down." A few more checks and Sara and Grissom were alone again.

Her eyes followed him as he opened another juice cup and brought it to her, placing the straw between her lips.

"I'm afraid to touch you." He said as she swallowed juice. "There is a wire or tube hooked everywhere." He tried to smile but found it difficult to do.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her voice still a raspy whisper.

Quickly, too quickly, she thought, he replied, "Nothing. Everything is okay. You're going to be fine."


	3. Chapter 3

Bedside Stories Chapter 3

**Bedside Stories Chapter 3**

"Gil." The way she said his name, that soft, husky whisper, made more so by what she had been through; the way she said his name when they were alone, in bed, when she wanted him.

His hand found her cheek, one place that was not bruised or cut or otherwise wounded. "You've been through an ordeal, much of it I don't know. Fractured arm, wrist. Extensive bruising." He pointed to his face. "Face, here and here. Everything will heal." These were the things that showed on the surface.

He pointed to the monitors behind her head. "Hyperthermia—serious, but if anything, these people know how to cool a body. You were burning up inside—cold water, cooling blankets, meds to stop shivering." His hand moved so his fingers caressed her neck. "You've had a tube in your throat, check for bleeding, core temperature."

He watched as she tried to smile, saying "At least it wasn't David checking my temp."

"No, it wasn't." He could not think about how close they had been to losing her. "Can you sleep?"

Her head moved slightly. "Can you stay?"

"Yes."

She drifted back to sleep, dreams coming to her from the distant past of a dead father, a missing mother, an abandoned childhood. She woke to a darkened room hearing sounds of machines and low voices beyond the door. She searched for Grissom, sitting beside her, asleep, his head beside her hip, his fingers touching her hand. Even in sleep, his face showed fatigue of days of worry. She remained quiet and still trying to recall what she could remember of the preceding days.

Her memory came in parts and pieces. Natalie—holding a gun, no, not a gun, a tazer. The trunk of a car. She knew she got out of the trunk. Greg wasn't going to drain her human soup out of a trunk. Her thought process was interrupted when it jumped from the trunk to underneath a car and rain coming down. That wasn't right. Something else happened.

The coyote came. That was before the rain. She had watched as the animal sniffed near her outstretched arm. And she wasn't afraid.

Most people knew about coyotes from a cartoon. Sara knew folklore stories of the wise and smart coyote, who brought light to earth, who tricked those who did not like him, who was the spirit of the dead, and who would not die. She would not die, not tonight under the car.

The desert nearly did what the kidnapper, the car, and the rain did not do. The pain came back when she thought of the parched thirst and the sun. She licked her lips and wanted fluids. In her mind, the extremes came back to her. The flood of water until the sun came up in a cloudless sky. The chills of being wet and cold. The heat as the sun scorched her skin.

It faded at some point, or her brain was too tired to think. A cup of juice was just beyond her reach. Grissom's breathing was deep and easy. She did not want to wake him. The cup made a ring of condensation on the table top.

There was a light tap on the door and fingertips appeared around the door. Nick's face followed. Sara smiled. Grissom continued to sleep.

"Hey, girl." He whispered. "You're awake." He came to her bedside opposite where Grissom slept in the chair.

She nodded. "Just in time to get me a drink, too." She said.

He reached across the bed and brought the cup and straw to her mouth. "It's hard to find a good nurse." Nick indicated the older man who had not stirred.

Sara whispered, "I hated to wake him."

"Yeah. He hasn't left you, Sara. Wouldn't let any of us stay. I've never seen him like this."

"Thanks, Nick. I know you found me. Grissom…" They kept their voices in quiet whispers.

Nick leaned and kissed her forehead. "We all love you, sweetie. You were smart to take the mirror."

"I didn't want to die."

Nick smiled at her words; similar words had been spoken after he had been found. "It wasn't your time," his smile brought back the day she had been with him.

"Grissom should go home."

Nick shook his head. "We tried, but he refuses. Brass brought a change of clothes. I'd bet he hasn't had three hours of sleep in three days." He raised the juice back to her mouth.

"He loves you, Sara."

She looked at the sleeping man beside her bed. "He loves all of us."

Nick said nothing for a full minute. "We know." Her eyes moved to his. "It slipped out, after Natalie took you." Her mouth opened. "He got another miniature, it was you."

Tears welled in her eyes.

"Oh, now, don't cry. I can't stand that. Heck, we've known forever about that torch you carry. There's been times I wanted to—to take him to the woodshed." His thumb moved gently across her eye. "Don't cry. You need those fluids inside, not outside."

Sara's voice was barely a whisper as she asked, "Did he say we lived together?"

Nick shook his head. "Not that. He said—'Natalie has taken the only person I've ever loved'."

Tears appeared again in her eyes. "He said it like that?"

His head nodded a yes and he smiled a big grin. "Yep. Talk about silence. I know it was three minutes before anyone said a word. But just as quickly, we knew it was true. We had watched you two tease and flirt and be mad at each other for years, so I guess we didn't pay enough attention when it stopped." He chuckled as he thought of Catherine's response. He would wait to tell that story.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The man in the chair stirred and opened his eyes, seeing Nick beside the bed. Clearing his throat, sitting up, he said, "I didn't mean to sleep. Hi, Nick."

"Grissom," the younger man responded. "You need sleep. I'll stay. Go home. Sara and I can talk. Man, you need sleep."

"Thanks, I'm staying."

Nick shrugged his shoulders and glanced at Sara. "See what I mean. Tell him to go."

Grissom placed his hand on her face. "I'm staying, Nick. I'll go when she's discharged." And doing something he had never done in front of another person, he leaned over and kissed her forehead.

Nick grinned. "Let me have your chair. Walk down the hall. Get more juice. I can stay."

Sara tried to smile at both, but her face hurt. "How long?" She asked. They looked confused. "Before I go home?"

Grissom and Nick looked at one another. Grissom left saying he would be quick and Nick pulled the chair closer to the bed. Nick was a good companion. He would talk about simple things, tell stories about Texas, or some Discovery channel show. He never asked questions one had to answer, and before Grissom returned, Sara's eyes dropped and she was asleep.

Finding his patient asleep, Grissom placed several juice containers at her bedside.

"How is she doing?" Nick asked.

"Better. She's talking. They took the heart monitor off. It's the dehydration and hyperthermia that needs watching—or its aftereffects. Kidney function, muscle wasting. She had a seizure right after she got here. It's like one damn thing after another."

Nick waved at the other chair. "Get some sleep, Grissom. Pull the bed out. I'll sit beside her."

Grissom hesitated. "If she wakes up, will you…" he let the question hang as Nick pulled the chair out to make a small bed. He fell rather than lay on the mattress, finally closing his eyes in a sound, dreamless slumber, a pillow punched under his head. Nick found a blanket and covered him only after he was asleep.

The young nurses and a few students learned quickly of the second man in their patient's room—one younger and handsome with a ready smile for each one who entered—and found reasons and excuses to check on the woman who lay in bed. He took their offers of coffee or tea but remained at bedside nearly as vigilant as the older man. The nurses knew the patient, or knew how she became their patient.

For twenty-four hours her story was headlined on local news. Kidnapped by a serial killer, left in the desert, almost killed by heat, the medical specialists had worked another miracle—that's what the newsreaders called it. The doctors and nurses knew it was science and technology and a strong body that made recovery possible. The miracles were there, anyone who worked in a hospital would agree, and the science made them happen. Or the more mystical among them would say the stars lined up, added strength to this young woman's will, and she would go home, healed, hopefully happy, to continue her life.

Nick watched and waited, a good friend to both. He needed few comforts to keep him in this room. The desire to please, to be useful, to be kind, was enough. He read a newspaper, flipped pages in a magazine, and placed a tentative hand on the patient's hair if she stirred.

He wished she had shared more of her life with him. Not as a lover—he could not remember a time when he or she had sought that. From early days of getting to know her, he knew she loved Grissom. At some time, Grissom had decided to love her, or maybe he had always loved her. Nick smiled at his thoughts.

Several hours passed while the two slept and Nick watched and waited. Sara woke first; asking for something to drink, her eyes troubled until she saw Grissom asleep.

"He's getting some good sleep," Nick said as he brought juice to her mouth.

Sara quickly drained the cup. "Thanks. I feel pretty helpless." Her voice was still a whisper, but stronger, not quite so raspy.

"You can be helpless for a few days. One of the nurses said I could feed you if you wanted something."

She nodded her head. "Yeah, maybe so. Not a lot. I'd love fruit."

He was gone a few minutes, returning with more juice, pears, and jello. She ate the pears first, then the jello. He spooned each bite into her mouth and patiently waited until she was ready for the next. Very quietly, he told her about breaking his arm when he was a kid—stepped in a hole, fell head over heals, and came up with a compound fracture with the bone coming through the skin. He laughed when he told how he avoided taking a bath or shower for six weeks.

"How old were you?" she asked.

"Maybe ten. I'd wet my hair and tell my mom I had showered. I know I had to smell! Finally, when the cast came off, my mom made me soak in the tub for hours." He continued to talk, telling her another story that made her laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

Bedside Stories Chapter 5

**Bedside Stories Chapter 5**

Grissom woke up hearing a soft laugh from Sara's bed and Nick's voice. "Sounds like you two are having fun without me." He shook the blanket aside and raked hands in his hair. He stood and stretched saying, "Good sleep, thanks, Nick."

Sara had always been amazed at his sleep habits; a few hours of sound sleep and he was able to function better than most people after eight hours. He did look a little rumpled and she tried to grin. The bright light of early dawn had found a crack into the room and as he walked across the room, she could see the fatigue in his face and his movements.

Nick got up to leave. "She ate jello and fruit and took a nap." His hand touched her foot and ankle. "You know I'd do anything for you, Sara. Anything you need…" his voice choked and he quickly looked away.

She whispered "thanks" as Grissom shook Nick's hand and the two walked to the door.

Either the absence of the young, handsome man, or just the early time, brought a nurse and two aides into her room. The nurse announced it was bath time and moved to block Grissom's approach to her bed. The two aides were already rolling the sheet to one side.

"No," his voice was firm. "Cover her up." The two women looked at the nurse. "I'll do it. Just leave towels. I'll bathe her."

"Grissom." Sara whispered her name. "Let them do it. Go get breakfast. I'll be fine."

He stood at the door a few seconds before nodding and disappearing.

The nurse and aides moved with quick and quiet practice in bathing her. One of the aides, an older woman with the soft hands of one who's life has been spent taking care of those who can not take care of themselves, washed Sara's body with ease, without embarrassment. At times Sara grunted with pain and bit her lip to keep from crying out. They changed her gown, cutting the shoulder seam and taping it together. Clean sheets were placed on her bed, three pairs of hands pulling the fabric smooth and moving her body with routine practice borne of experience.

"One of your doctor's will be in early today. I think we'll get most of this taken off today. You are doing very well, much better today." The nurse said this to Sara.

"When can I go home?"

The nurse shook her head. "Not for several more days. Your friend has not left you since recovery." She smiled. "I know he's more than a friend. We don't see that kind of dedication in most husbands or wives."

One of the aides gathered up sheets and towels, agreeing with the nurse. "Honey, he's been giving us orders every shift—nice, polite, but orders." She laughed as she backed out the door. "Here he is, waiting for us to leave."

Grissom had two cups of coffee, holding one up for the nurse's approval. As Sara had bathed, so had he—somewhere, somehow. His face was clean-shaven, his shirt changed to a hospital scrub pullover.

"Hey, Gilbert." She smiled even if it hurt her face. "I'm clean and hungry."

At the door, the nurse turned. "We'll see if we can't get you some real food today. I'll see you when the doctor gets here." She left them alone.

Grissom offered the coffee, finding a straw so she could drink it. "Did you and Nick have a good visit?" he asked.

She nodded. She wasn't ready to tell him everything Nick had said. "Nick is always good. I'm not sure he ever has a bad thought."

Grissom settled in the bedside chair. "Nick is good. He'll make a good supervisor one day." He chuckled as he thought about the younger man. "Nick was so young when he came here. I almost lost him too." As these two had learned, they drank coffee in silence, neither finding the need to say a word. Grissom would silently offer her coffee, place it on the bedside table, drink his own, and repeat the process. The bath, the clean sheets and having him next to her made her sleepy again before she finished the coffee.


	6. Chapter 6

Bedside Stories Chapter 6

**Bedside Stories Chapter 6**

Yet before her eyes closed completely, the door opened again. Sara could not remember the man, but Grissom knew him as one of several physicians overseeing her care. The two men shook hands, the physician checked monitors behind Sara's head, asked how she was feeling, and read chart notes.

The doctor sat on the edge of her bed. "You've had a tough few days, Sara. You are much better, but it's not over. The bone docs will take care of that," he indicated her arm. "I'm the nephrologist—kidney doctor. Your kidney function is returning to normal. We're going to take out the IV and give you one arm to use. You need to keep drinking. We'll get you some food too. Do you have any questions?"

"How much longer before I can go home?"

He smiled and said, "Why is that always the first question? Another day or so, at least. We'll get you on your feet; make sure your kidney function continues to improve. Maybe even get a real cast on that arm." He looked at Grissom. "Does she know how critical she has been?"

Grissom shook his head. "No."

The physician closed her chart before beginning his explanation. "Heatstroke, hyperthermia, is always an emergency, in your case critical. Literally, you had minutes before there would have been no recovery. Once here, we got a thermistor probe inside you, right down your throat, to check core temperature. Cooled you with blankets and water.

"Within minutes of getting here, you had a seizure—not life threatening by itself, and fairly common with hyperthermia. You've been on meds for that and it looks like those meds have been decreased with no more seizures—that's good. Your kidneys have good function. The catheter collects your urine; rhabdomyolysis is common. That's a big word meaning your muscle cells are breaking down and leaving your body, which happened to you. Today's tests should show a big improvement from the looks of your urine.

"As to prognosis, you should make a full recovery. But you will need to be checked, your kidneys, your liver function, even your heart. But you are young, strong, healthy, and I don't expect you to have long-term problems. Now, let us take care of you for another few days, then you can go home." His hand reached to her IV. "Let's take this down, tape the hand, so she has use of her right arm."

The nurse stepped forward and quickly removed the line going to the fluids. She wrapped Sara's hand with gauze and tape. Taking Grissom's hand, she placed it on the top of Sara's hand. "Keep a gentle pressure on this for a few minutes." She smiled. "And I'll order breakfast for you." She followed the doctor out of the room.

Sara brought her free hand to Grissom's face. "You look so worried. I'm going to be fine; you heard him."

Grissom touched her hair and forehead with his lips. "Sara," he whispered, "forgive me for waiting so long to say this. I love you and have for years. I have never loved anyone as I do you. Once my mother said I was probably to arrogant to love; she was probably right. I try to be just, and patient, and kind to others but I do not love, except for you. You are so passionate and show so much compassion for others, I know it is easy for you to love. But for me, you are a flower in a desert, water to my thirst, a tree to give me shade. You alone have kept my heart from becoming cold and indifferent and I can not imagine my life without you."

He had moved her hand to his chest over his heart as he bent over her face and kissed her.

The next thing they heard was someone clearing a throat. They parted slowly and as he turned to the door, he said, "Hello, Catherine."

The blonde woman walked into the room, swinging the door behind her. "Am I interrupting something?" She laughed and smiled and she closed the space between the bed and doorway. "Look at you two!" She touched Grissom's shoulder. "Love the scrubs—color does wonders for you."

Catherine moved between Sara and Grissom. "You are looking much better, Sara. And you can move an arm." She placed a bag on the bed, turned to face Grissom. "Why don't you get lost for awhile? Go home and change clothes, get some breakfast."

He started to protest, but both women agreed. "I'm fine, go home. I'll be fine."

"I've brought some girlie things," Catherine indicated the bag. "We'll be busy doing things no man wants to know about. Go." She waved her hand toward the door. "I'll stay until you return. Promise."

Reluctantly, he agreed. He gathered up several pieces of clothing and papers before leaving, promising to be quick.

As quiet as Nick and Grissom were, Catherine was their opposite. She talked non-stop even as she dumped the contents of the bag on the bed. Sara saw hair things, nail polish, lotion, and a few other beauty products more in line with Catherine's routine than hers. Without so much as asking permission, she began with Sara's toenails painting each with a bright pink. She let Sara pick a color for her fingernails.

"You don't have to do this, Catherine." Sara said as she watched Catherine pull a nail file from the things on the bed.

"I would not if I didn't want to. It's one thing I'm good at so let me." She smiled as Sara passed a bottle of polish to her. "Good girl. Fingernails look better when a shade lighter than the toes." She bent over Sara's free hand. "Grissom told us…" she looked up at Sara. "He—he sort of blurted out that he loved you when we realized Natalie took you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Bedside Stories Chapter 7**

Sara kept her eyes down as Catherine continued. She needed no encouragement to keep talking. "It took us a minute or two to process what he said—I mean, you had never let anything slip and I didn't think Grissom had a romantic bone in his body! I mean—I hope he's romantic, at least a little bit. If there's romance, it's always better." She stopped talking for a few seconds. She saw Sara smile. "Good. After we stood there with our mouths open, I asked the others if he said what I thought he said. Well," she laughed, "you know me; all I could think about was finding him at Lady Heather's house. And talking about her to you." She stopped talking until Sara looked at her.

"I'm sorry about that. If I had known or even suspected anything between you two, I would have never—well, you know what I mean." She went back to painting Sara's fingernails. "He was unstoppable when we were looking for you. We found a drown hiker in the desert. He thought it was you. I knew then how much he loves you, but he never broke down, he never stopped. He would have walked to Salt Lake if it meant finding you."

She paused a minute before continuing. "I've known Gil for a long time. I've seen him take an interest in a few women. When you came here, I knew he felt differently toward you, almost teacher to favorite student. You were so eager to please." She smiled. "I was afraid he would isolate you from the rest of us, but you were so—so alive, so enthusiastic—do you remember saying to me that we were two smart women? I knew then we would make a great pair. Two sides to a coin, I guess." She quietly laughed. "When you get out of here, I want to hear how you and he got together." She looked up from Sara's hand. "Oh, not when you were suspended? He came in saying he had taken care of you—that's not what he meant, right? It's not any of my business, I know, but I'm just curious." Her questions did not stop long enough for an answer. "Warrick sent me into shock when he came in announcing he had gotten married. That was a bolt out of the blue. I don't want you two to do the same!" Catherine stopped a few seconds, "I could put Warrick on my do-list."

Sara snickered but she never agreed to tell Catherine anything; Catherine's thoughts were that she would learn their story sooner or later.

Catherine talked on and on. She told how her mother painted her fingernails every week when Catherine was a child. By the time she—Catherine—was eight or ten years old, she was good at painting nails and would spend hours picking out new colors with her mother. "I never knew a father, just Sam who was always around. I must have been a teenager when I first thought that he might be my dad, but I didn't want him to be my dad. He was my mother's on-again-off-again boyfriend, not my dad."

Her talk was cut short by arrival of a breakfast tray, filled with eggs, toast, little sausages, cereal, milk, juice, a banana, and coffee. Catherine, skilled at taking charge, moved the sausages away from the plate, buttered toast, and asked how she wanted the coffee. Anything that required two hands, Catherine provided assistance. She ate the sausages. Sara passed the coffee to her.

"Drink the coffee. I've had a cup already." Together, the two women ate most of the food on the tray; Catherine continued talking about Lindsey, about her mother, about a Sam Braun building project. Sara's eyes closed.

"Oh, I'm talking too much. You need to sleep. Wait. Let's do something about your hair." Catherine pulled a new brush from the bag. "You've got this bed hair going on." She brushed Sara's hair back from her face. "Lot's of curl here. Most of us pay big money for this."

Sara actually chuckled a laugh. "I don't like it." Catherine's brush in her hair worked a spell on Sara and the last thing she remembered was a voice saying sleep was good.

Later, she woke to the smell of Grissom, freshly showered. He was talking to someone about her. She kept her eyes closed, listening, and heard a soft laugh from across the room. Catherine was still there. Of course, Sara had no idea how long she had been asleep, maybe ten minutes, or two hours. He held her hand in his, his thumb making light circles in her palm.

"She never judged me, Catherine. She never wavered. One day I realized what a golden bird had flown into my life. She was youth to my age. I was analytical and she was a dreamer, yet we were kindred spirits; marked by fate to find each other." He was quiet for a minute. "I held back for a long time; I could not allow myself to love, Catherine, yet she found it so easy to do."

Catherine spoke softly. "I wish I had known, Gil."

"We wanted privacy. I was selfish—I wanted to work with her. I wanted her twenty-four hours a day." He sighed. "We became another right hand to each other; she knows what I will do before I know. One of us will have to change now."

"You know Ecklie is having a fit. Always claims to know everything that goes on in the lab and he missed the biggest secret ever!" She laughed.

Sara heard Grissom chuckle. "He'll calm down. I'll threaten to quit."

"Well, that won't happen. I've always thought you had something on the sheriff."

Sara heard a soft chest sound—one that meant he wasn't telling, if he had something to tell. She could never be sure. She moved and he turned to her, knowing she was awake.

"Hey, did you get a nap?"

A/N_: Thanks for reading, and a big thanks to all who comment! We still have a story to tell, but it's all fluff!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Bedside Stories Chapter 8**

She nodded as Catherine appeared beside her. "Thanks, Catherine" She held out her free hand for Grissom. "And my toes, too."

Catherine said her goodbyes promising to return soon, to tell the others she was better. She hugged Grissom and waved to Sara as she left. He came to sit on the bed beside her.

"I brought a book from home." He would read to her. On nights when one could not sleep, or when sleep evaded both, or at times when others watched television or went to movies, they read. She would curl against his chest and listen to words of Shakespeare, and James Joyce, and Faulkner, Fitzgerald, and Kipling. She occasionally read to him, books she chose, at first the non-fiction ones of biology and biographies, politics and environment, but gradually found those of women and love and understanding were better suited for their needs.

Today, he opened an old novel written about a foreign war in a far away place of people long dead. There was no room beside her on the bed, not with the traction contraption holding her left arm and wrist in place; he scooted the chair near her so his hand could touch hers and began reading.

The nurse and orthopedic doctor found them with heads together, buried deeply in the pages of a book. The physician thought he often had to compete with a blaring television, but this room was exceptionally quiet.

"How's the patient?" He asked of Sara, examining the blue and white temporary splint and the traction pole holding her arm upright. He turned to the nurse. "I think we can take this down, get the cast on her arm." He touched fingertips to hers, moving each one with his. "Your arm should heal in six weeks. The wrist fracture will take longer. I want to put a cast past your elbow. It won't be comfortable and bathing is a chore, but it will help to hold everything together. In a few weeks we can reduce that to a smaller cast."

The nurse made a phone call and while Grissom and the physician talked, the traction pole was removed, a cabinet was wheeled in and at the bedside, the physician heated and wrapped soft fabric then wet plaster around Sara's arm. He explained it was not the old type plaster, but a new hardening fiber component, more resistant to water, lighter weight, easier to wear.

Sara was happy to have her arm back across her abdomen. She felt almost free, unencumbered by medical paraphernalia for the first time since she woke up.

The nurse gave her a smile. "We'll get that last tube out today. Your kidney results look good; I need to call your doctor to get the okay."

Sara laughed, the catheter had been a lifesaver; all she had to do was drink and never had to think about going to the bathroom. She told this to the nurse.

"Keep drinking." The nurse advised. "You need to keep fluids flushing your kidneys."

Lunch arrived at some point and when Grissom saw the chicken, he sat the tray aside saying he would be right back. He returned with her favorite food, a veggie burger from the cafeteria's selection.

The same nurse returned and did as she promised, quickly removing the catheter. "Don't get up without help. We don't want a fall on top of everything else. When you are in the bathroom, don't lock the door. Tomorrow, we need to check kidney function again."

Grissom and Sara agreed to all the instructions. She wasn't going home yet, but with each discontinued device, she felt nearer the exit door. He got her to the bathroom, her feet barely touching the floor, but at least she was upright and doing something on her own.

Mid-afternoon, another soft knock on the door and Jim Brass stuck his head in the room. "I hear my favorite girl is awake and making progress."

Sara croaked a welcome, her voice still raspy and sore. He did not hesitate to hug her with both arms, wrapping her against his chest. "You had us worried, not just this old guy over here." He reached in his jacket pocket. "Here's a card from everyone." Pink slips fell out with the card. He passed the card to Sara. "Messages for you," and he handed the pink papers to Grissom. "Go take care of those. I'll sit here with Sara."

Sara nodded and waved her hand. "Go. I'm fine." He hesitated until they both waved him out the door.

"How are you, baby?" Brass said as he took the chair by her bed.

For the first time since she woke up with her body broken and bruised, Sara's emotions overwhelmed her. Tears filled her eyes and fell down her cheeks. "I'm a mess, Jim. Grissom is so happy, but all I want to do is cry. I don't dare tell him."

Brass brought his handkerchief out for her to use. "Why, Sara?"

She wiped her eyes before replying, "I don't know. I hurt all over. I don't know what happened to me."

He interrupted her, "Wait, honey, wait. Why haven't you told Gil? He needs to know. He's been so worried, hasn't slept; he's happy you are awake, that you are going to be okay."

Tears continued to form in her eyes. "Everyone knows."

He snorted at her words. "Yeah, I heard he made the announcement. I think Greg suspected something. Even if he had not spilled the beans, there was no doubt that the man was obsessed with finding you. Catherine's words were 'She's the only person I've ever loved.' Now, I did not hear him say that, but for her to say it…coming from Gil Grissom, those are powerful words."

She tried to blink back tears. "I knew we could not keep it secret forever, but we just never talked about it. I wanted a private life, not one where everyone talked about us." She swiped tears. "I guess they are now."

"Everyone's happy you are alive. I have heard nothing said about you and Grissom. I'm sure it's been around and settled down. Old news by now. Don't let that get to you." He grinned and winked. "I'm surprised most of the place had not figured it out by now but you two are good."

His comment made her smile. "Now, maybe they won't think he and Heather have something going on." Her comment made him smile. That association still made him cringe, but if Sara could accept it with good nature, so could he.

The door opened and Grissom was back in the room. Brass quickly rose and turned to talk to him, giving Sara time to wipe her face. "I got to run. Take care of this girl. She has my number." He gave Sara a quick hug as she slipped his handkerchief back to him.

"Thanks."

He shot her a one-finger wave. "Talk," he said as he left.

Grissom watched him leave, turning back to Sara. "Talk? About what?" He got to the bed with quick steps, concern across his face. "What's wrong?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Bedside Stories Chapter 9**

She shook her head. "Nothing. I'm just tired. I started to cry when Jim was here." She whispered.

He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. "I'm sorry, Sara. I'm so sorry." He sat on the bedside holding her hand. "This should never have happened to you." He turned back to the door. "I'll be right back." He was gone for a few minutes.

When he returned, he had a smile on his face. "Move over. Let me help you." His arms moved her enough to make space for him beside her. He toed his shoes off and slipped into the bed with her. She curled against him as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Tell me." His lips touched her hair as his hand brushed her chin. He whispered her name.

Minutes passed before she began to talk. She spoke of what she could remember, being afraid that no one knew she was taken, of how frightened she was in the trunk, knowing Natalie had killed others, of how confused her mind was, of the sudden rain and flood while she was trapped underneath the car. Sara told him about the coyote coming up to her and she knew she would not die, not underneath the car.

Stumbling in the heat, trying to find a way out of the desert, she had remembered her parents. Her mother's image came to her, young, beautiful, and laughing, as Sara's memory returned to childhood. She had not thought of her father with any degree of fondness in years; however, that day, trying to stay awake by repeating multiplication tables brought her dad into her memories. She had remembered little math cards he had made and used to teach her math problems, of riding in a car with him and working out speed and distance—all remembered when she was trying to find another man. When she lost consciousness, her last thought had been of the man beside her. Her hand gripped his.

Grissom told her about the last miniature in his office, of lifting the model car and finding the little figure with dark hair, of finding her car, of how all work stopped so everyone could look for her. And he finally told her that everyone knew about them. Not only had he announced it to the team, but once Natalie was in custody, he had screamed at her before Brass pulled him from the room. If there had been any doubt about their relationship, it was gone after that incident. Ecklie, even the sheriff, had backed away from him as he charged through the lab, taking who and what he needed to search. He would never use the word 'frantic' but others would in their description of him that night and the next day.

He kept her hand in his. Her fractured arm lay across his chest. When each had said as many words as they could, she relaxed against him and dreamed. For so long, they had shared a bed with no one and now neither wanted to sleep without the other. One day, years ago, they had found each other in a lecture room. She looked up and he was there. His eyes met hers—both had the same thoughts sensing an affinity of minds—and she asked questions. From that day, she was his.

Later as he recalled how she asked too many questions, she admitted to uncertainty and shyness trying to work up courage to ask him to dinner.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to stay awake, but the past three days and lack of sleep and worry crept into his brain until he too was able to sleep, listening to her quiet breathing. Night came and no one entered the room with 'Isolation, No Visitors' and 'Check with nurse' signs posted on the door.

Before nurses changed shift, Grissom slipped from the bed and opened the door. He found the charge nurse, thanking her for the signs on the door. She found her patient sleeping as comfortably as one could with a stiff heavy cast from shoulder to fingertips.

"Let her sleep." Grissom asked. "I'll get you when she wakes up."

The nurse agreed. It wasn't protocol, but none of the care for this patient had followed normal processes. One more deviation would not hurt.

Grissom settled beside her with a book. He had turned two pages when he looked up at the open door and found Warrick, paused at the threshold waiting for an invitation.

Grissom waved his hand. "Come in."

Silently, the tall man eased across the floor to the empty chair. "Nick said she was doing a lot better."

"She is." Grissom nodded toward the bed. "The first good sound sleep she's had. And she's finally unhooked from everything." He touched her hair brushing a lock behind her ear.

"She's a fighter, Grissom. She'll be fine." He said as he stretched long legs across the floor. "We wish we were more like her."

The two men watched her for long minutes before Warrick asked, "Where's her parents? She never talks about them."

Grissom shook his head. "Her father died years ago. Her mother is in San Francisco. They—they are not close."

Warrick cleared his throat before asking, "How long—you two?"

"She moved in about a year ago. No, truth is, I moved her into my place. She was dmn determined not to do it even when she was spending every day and night there." He laughed softly at his statement. "I went over there, put her things in boxes and moved her in while she laughed at me."

"We never suspected anything." The visitor leaned back against the chair, chuckling as he did so. "Nick and I decided years ago that she was 'Grissom's woman' which meant hands off."

Grissom did not laugh, but arched an eyebrow. "Yeah, and why was that?"

Warrick grinned, "We could never get her to date our friends. We gave up after a while cause she just was not interested."

The two men were quiet again; not uncomfortably so, both arranging thoughts before saying words.

Grissom was the first to speak. "Remember Debbie Marlin? Nurse, killed in her bathroom?"

"Yeah. Boyfriend killed too. We never got who did it." Warrick did not know where this was going.

Grissom wiped his face with one hand and looked at Sara. "After that case—Debbie Marlin could have been Sara's twin—I knew I had to change things. I didn't want to be alone any more."

Warrick's voice was low when he replied. "I felt that way after Nick's kidnapping—I didn't want to be alone." He shook his head. "Of course, Tina and I should have lived together first, gotten use to each other's schedule."

Grissom said, "It took me a long time to decide what to do." He glanced at Warrick. "I was never one to make quick decisions. When she came here, I was in love with her, but somehow, other things got in the way; she became part of my work instead of part of my life."

The two men were again quiet. Warrick had worked for Grissom for years, never seeking a promotion that would mean another supervisor, getting Catherine by default for a few months. He always wanted to work for this quiet man who gave orders and made decisions with intelligence and concern for everyone involved. He knew there was apprehension in the sound of his voice, yet not in the words he spoke.

"Things have a way of working out," Warrick said.

The older man moved his head in a barely noticeable nod. "I want her to be happy. This—this is my fault."

"No, don't even go there, man. Sara doesn't think that way. Who could have known what that crazy woman would do?"

Grissom tried to smile. "She's strong."

Warrick silently agreed saying "I'll leave. Tell her I was here." He stood, uneasy about his friend and supervisor, concerned about what was not spoken as well as what was said. He had no answers, certain in his own way that none were expected. He closed the door as he left the two in the darken room.


	10. Chapter 10

Bedside Stories Chapter 10

**Bedside Stories Chapter 10**

Grissom picked up his book and continue to read; twice he gave her water and smoothed her covers when dreams tried to wake her. He was well acquainted with her troubling dreams and the recent events would do nothing to ease the old ones, likely adding to those she already fought.

The nurse made rounds, woke her enough to swallow medications, and left them in the dark room. He stayed awake and hours passed before Sara's eyes flickered open. Her hand found his.

"Did you sleep?" she asked. When he shook his head, she said, "You have to sleep, Gil. I'm much better."

"I know." He helped her from the bed and she walked across the room, his arms around her, holding her up. She looked in the mirror for the first time, touching her face and her neck.

"I need to call Catherine about this face." She smiled when she said it. "Good thing my looks never worried me."

He hugged her in the small bathroom. "You're always beautiful."

The short walk across the room tired her more than she thought possible. "I'm so tired, Gil."

"Rest, honey. You've been through a lot. A few more days and you will be back to your old self."

She had gotten back in the bed when a light tattoo on the door signaled the arrival of another visitor. A hand holding a white paper sack eased the door open followed by Greg's face.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Two short chapters today and two more until the close of Bedside Stories!_

**Bedside Stories Chapter 11**

"Can I come in?" He asked. They both answered yes as he came into the room. "I brought your favorite."

Grissom looked at him and the bag. "Mine or hers? That doesn't look like burgers."

Greg was grinning from ear to ear. He placed the sack on the bed. "Sara and I share a love for…" he pulled three containers out. He looked to her for approval of his food offering.

Sara had crossed her legs, suddenly feeling better just with the appearance of her friend and co-worker. Greg had known about Sara and Grissom for months. And, in a testament to his trusting spirit, he had told no one what he knew.

"Yogurt is always good." She knew the box; this was good stuff. Greg also knew which ones were her favorites. She motioned for him to sit on the foot of the bed.

"How's Hank?" Grissom asked. The dog had gone with Greg the day they found Sara.

"Fine! He loves my house. He loves my neighbors and their dogs."

Hank was how Greg learned Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom were a couple. They had brought the boxer home, gone to dog school, learned tricks, and taken their pet to a dog park, knowing that no one they worked with had a dog. Holding hands, they walked and played with their puppy. Grissom had thrown a toy for Hank when another dog ran up to them. Looking up to find his owner, they found Greg standing ten feet away.

No one said a word for several minutes until Greg stammered he was dog-sitting for a friend. Sara's laugh had eased their awkwardness. They were not dog sitting; Hank was their dog. She laughed as she sternly told him that she and Grissom wanted privacy and under threat of ending a friendship, he gave his word never to reveal what he knew. For months, he had kept his vow.

The yogurt was opened and the three people, accustomed to eating whatever food was available, quickly emptied each container. Greg related news of what was happening at work with his usual zeal. He stopped in mid-sentence when a voice from the door interrupted his story.

_A/N: If you have been reading along, tell us what you think! It's a free read and we don't ask for reviews, but do appreciate so much those we get--so come on, write us a note! _


	12. Chapter 12

**Bedside Stories Chapter 12**

"Gil, Sara, good to see you awake." The man glanced at his watch. "Sanders, I hope you are off the clock." Greg scrambled to get off the bed as Ecklie came into the room.

"Good morning, Conrad." Grissom was the quickest to greet the lab supervisor. "I'm sure Greg is off the clock. He brought Sara some yogurt." He stood jamming his hands into the pockets of his pants. Sara and Greg remained quiet.

Ecklie tried to smile but Sara thought it looked more like a grimace. She immediately thought of the Dr. Seuss book _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_. Ecklie's arrival had stolen the light out of this room.

"How are you? Much improved I hope."

Sara nodded. "I'm awake and eating and peeing on my own. That's a big improvement in my book."

Greg turned his head to smile. Grissom managed a poker face.

"Well, well, that's good." Ecklie remained at the foot of the bed. The three others kept their eyes on him. "I came by earlier but the sign on the door…" he pointed to the door where the signs had been removed. "Uhh—Gil, could I talk to you outside?" He backed a few steps toward the open door.

Grissom agreed, saying to Greg "You stay here until I return."

The two friends remained quiet until Grissom firmly closed the door and left them alone.

Sara blew out a deep sigh as she leaned against her pillow. "He doesn't like me. Now he will make Gil's job even more difficult."

"Ahh, Sara, no one likes him. Maybe Hodges, but then no one likes him either! What can he do?"

She sighed again. "All those rules about work relationships—and Gil is my supervisor."

Greg took Grissom's chair, and laughed as he said, "Yeah, that relationship kept you out of the dumpsters and the decomp."

She laughed even when it caused pain. Greg could always find a way to make her laugh. "I want to know what Catherine said when she found out." She told him what Nick had said.

Greg grinned, "Everyone was silent; no one said a word for five minutes. He," indicating Grissom, "took off and left us standing with mouths open. Catherine was the first to say something."

"Tell." This one word from Sara was all Greg needed. He had the ability to recall details that most people quickly forgot after a conversation.

"She said 'Did he say what I thought he said.' And, of course, none of us had to say a word." He laughed, glancing at Sara. "Then she said 'What the fk was he doing with Heather that night?' She's still mad about that. She told us not to say anything." He held up his hand. "I wasn't saying anything. I did not want Catherine's wrath brought down on me. I mean, she thinks she knows everything that goes on—she doesn't, but I'm not telling her that!

"Later she told Brass to get Grissom out of the room with Natalie. Did Brass know about you two? I think he did. None of us had to say a word after Grissom tore through the lab and Ecklie and the Sheriff called everyone in." He looked at the closed door, saying "I'm not sure Grissom ever told anyone else. If you had seen him that night, he was a man possessed."

Sara reached for Greg's hand. "Everything will work out okay." She said this more to herself than to Greg. "It wasn't right of us to ask you to keep our secret."

He beamed a smile, "I would never tell. And it worked out so I could take care of Hank with all this happening."

From his pocket he removed a small music device and earphones. "I brought some music for you. Even got new earphones." He passed it to Sara.

Grissom returned to the room, saying Ecklie was full of regulations and rules and nothing important. Both Greg and Sara knew something else had been said.

Grissom covered a yawn. "Greg, can you stay? I need some sleep." He stretched out on the bed pulled from the upholstered chair. "Keep her company until I wake up." He stuffed a pillow under his head and in minutes was asleep.

"How does he do that? It took him all of thirty seconds!" Greg propped his feet on Sara's bed. "I have to turn over at least once."

The two friends talked about shared interests and experiences. A breakfast tray arrived and Greg bounced around the bed opening milk and cutting a banana and getting rewarded with bacon and toast and coffee.

"How's Grissom doing?" he asked in a hushed whisper. The man he referred to was sleeping soundly across the room.

"Okay. He's tired beyond words. Yesterday, he left while Catherine was here. I think he stayed awake all night."

Greg spoke again in a low voice. "He's been here the entire time. You were bad off, Sara."

She changed the subject. "Tell me what else Catherine said." They giggled like two conspirators, remembering other times they had discussed Catherine—not gossip, just facts, they told each other.

He related details of the search and rescue that she did not know; how photographs of a scene she worked showed Natalie in the crowd; how Grissom put it together—the miniature was different, her kidnapping was personal. She told him most of what she remembered; some things she did not remember or could not say to her friend.

They heard a familiar voice in the hall. Quickly, Sara used her free hand to pull the sheet over her face. "Say I'm asleep, Greg! And do not let him wake Grissom!" She whispered.

_A/N: One, maybe two more chapters to finish this one. Hope everyone has enjoyed our little fluff story. _


	13. Chapter 13

**Bedside Stories Chapter 13**

_A/N: Thanks to Kutostogill we have added a visitor! So give her credit for this added chapter! We will finish this one tomorrow! Thanks, everyone. _

The face with the voice appeared just as she closed her eyes. Greg met the visitor at the door. David Hodges held flowers as he knocked lightly on the partially opened door.

"Hello, Greg. I—I'm here to see how Sara is doing."

Greg gestured to the two sleeping forms in the room. "They are sleeping. Grissom asked me to stay until he woke up." He did not move from the doorway. "I'll take the flowers. I'm sure they will make Sara…happy."

David stretched to look into the room, seeing Grissom asleep on the pullout and Sara completed covered in the bed. "Be sure you tell them I came by. The flowers are from me; there's a card."

Greg nodded and began closing the door. "Thanks, I'll be sure Sara knows. Thanks." David had to back up as the door closed and Greg watched him walk away, giving a wave to the nurses in the hall.

"He's gone." Greg turned to find Sara suppressing a laugh.

"You were great. I just did not want to have to listen to him."

He put the flowers across the room. "Nice flowers. And there's a card."

"Give me the card and give the flowers to the nurses. I don't want it to smell like a funeral home in here!" She took the card and stuck it inside Grissom's book.

Greg pulled one flower from the bouquet, placed it in his mouth, and rotated his body on one foot while snapping his fingers. Sara face hurt as she smiled at his attempted imitation of a dancer.

Shortly, a nurse arrived with orders for additional tests. Greg woke Grissom. A CT scan, her third one; this one was a follow-up to a follow-up, just to make sure. Sara did not remember the first or second ones. The two men went with her to the scan, Greg leaving, promising to visit again and to take care of Hank until she got home.

The wait for the scan took longer than the actual scan. Returning to the room, Sara's bath team readied her for a real shower by wrapping her arm in plastic and gently moving her into the bathroom. The same woman washed her body and her hair keeping her covered with a clean sheet. Sara got glimpses of her blue and purple body. A clean body, a clean gown, and activity caused her eyes to close as the aides smoothed freshly made sheets over her.

However, before she slept, her blood was drawn and the two physicians plus a new one came in to see her. Two were ready to discharge her; the third made no promises waiting on results of her blood tests.

Lunch came and shortly afterwards, Sara drifted into sleep. Grissom made phone calls, one to Catherine asking if she would bring clothes for Sara just in case she was discharged later. Other than clothes, he said they needed nothing; Sara was improving, and finally, admitted he needed sleep.

Sara's sleep had renewed old dreams, faces and voices from her past making it difficult for her to distinguish current events from those in a distant past. The soft low voices in her mind became those in her room; Grissom was talking to someone she could not see, telling this person about her injuries.

She heard the female voice respond with "It will take time for her to recover. These are not just surface wounds."

Sara knew the voice. She heard Grissom quietly agree. She stirred enough to feel his hand on her hair. "She's waking up." He said.


	14. Chapter 14

_This is our conclusion to Bedside Stories; hope you enjoy! Let a little comment, please._

**Bedside Stories Chapter 14—Conclusion**

Heather Kessler stood at the foot of the bed. "Good afternoon, Sara."

This woman had been the subject of many conversations in the lab and Sara had heard all of them. She and Grissom had spent most of one day talking about Heather. Catherine was convinced Grissom had a sexual attraction and probably an actual liaison with the famous Lady Heather, more so after finding him in her house early one morning. Nick and Warrick were less sure; both believing it was more of intellectual flirtation. Sara knew the truth. Grissom had spent several nights in Heather's house over the past years. At first he had found her business strange and terrifying but hours spent with her as she explained and clarified the aspects of this industry had eased some of his concerns. Heather was a puzzle he sought to solve.

Eventually, out of many conversations, they had buried or chosen to ignore any sexual tension there might have been and developed a distant but loyal friendship. Sara had met her for the first time in this hospital after a bizarre crime. By the time of the investigation, Sara knew the history of these two people, accepted it in her own way as a non-issue between her and Gil, and managed to get through the days of gossip about the man she loved and lived with and this woman.

Grissom's hand never left her as he caressed her face, brushing her hair back and gently tucking it behind her ear.

"Hi," Sara answered, uncertainty clouded her brain. What could bring Heather to her bedside, she thought?

"I—I heard about your—your…" Heather stopped for a few seconds as she tried to find a fitting descriptive word. "I brought you some things you might find useful, for bruises, scars." She handed Sara a small box. "I—I don't want to offend either of you, but I've found they do work." Her tentative smile caused Sara to return one as she glanced at Grissom who continued to touch her face, his eyes locked on hers.

"Thank you, Heather. I need all the help I can get."

"You were very kind to me not long ago. I appreciate that. My days are filled with much more sunshine today, because of" she nodded at Grissom, "what he did."

She said her goodbye and left as quietly as she had arrived. Sara found several bottles of lotions and oils inside the box, each with an expensive looking label. Grissom made several comments before Sara began giggling, doubling over as pain caused her to grab her mid-section. Grissom did not find their conversation or their visitor nearly as funny as she did, but he did understand her somewhat off-beat and wicked sense of humor, thankful it had returned.

He kissed her lightly on her lips. She pulled him in for a deeper yearning kiss with him pulling away. "I don't want to cause a relapse," he said as he lifted one eyebrow.

She snickered, "That part of me isn't wounded." His hands remained on her face, carefully caressing her cheek with a light stroke of his thumb. Her hand covered his, "I am ready to go home," she said as she kissed his palm.

In the late afternoon, Catherine and Nick arrived with clothes from Sara's locker. Since everything Sara had worn on the day of her abduction was logged in as evidence, even her underwear and shoes, Catherine had purchased what was not in the locker. Conversation rolled from one work subject to others, avoiding talk of the case that had put Sara in the hospital. All four waited in the hospital room for discharge papers, finally arriving in the hands of a young nurse.

Prescriptions, appointments, and care instructions were given to Grissom. He kept agreeing quickly to whatever was said. Sara was happy to have her own clothes as Catherine helped her dress. The cast made dressing a challenge, but a pair of scissors and well-placed tape simplified the process. Other personal things, including Heather's gift, had been packed in Grissom's briefcase away from curious eyes. Quickly, the patient was rolled out of the room and into a waiting car. Grissom sat beside her while Nick drove; Catherine driving his car.

"Home." They both said the word as Nick pulled up. She got as far as the sofa before putting her head on a pillow and stretching out. Nick and Catherine quickly realized they were no longer needed and left minutes after Sara was asleep.

"Sara," she heard her name and knew it was his voice. Her eyes opened to find him inches from her face. "Let me get you to bed." He lifted her from the sofa.

"I'm so happy to be home. It seems like weeks since I left," she said. She saw exhaustion wrinkling around his eyes. "What did Ecklie say?"

They got down steps and into the bedroom. "Ecklie always has something to say. We can talk about him later." He held a tank top and sweat pants. "I found you something to sleep in." Together, they found a way to undress and redress her, his hands seeking her skin in gentle caresses.

"Hold me, Gil."

His hands stopped. "I—you need your medicines—to eat something." His hand moved along her thigh, bruised from hip to knee. He looked up to find two warm brown eyes; her lips came to his in a gentle kiss that lingered to play and tease. "I don't want to hurt you," he murmured.

"You will not hurt me." She whispered. With one arm, she pulled him into bed with her.

_The Conclusion! (not the end--life goes on with twists and turns!)_


End file.
